


Love Does Not Come First

by avatar_dragon_rider



Series: Old Wattpad Stuff [5]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Major Original Character(s), Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Pre-Canon, crossposting the better-written Wattpad fics, holy shit that's a lot of character tags, my own personal headcanons, probably some mild sex scenes in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 13:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9494120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avatar_dragon_rider/pseuds/avatar_dragon_rider
Summary: Chiefdom. Relationships. Marriage. Mounting pressure to produce heirs. All of this weighs on Stoick's mind as he reaches his twenties and starts his reign as chief. After his first wife dies in childbirth, he has to find another to secure his bloodline. He meets young Valka Jorgenson one day on the training grounds, and they start on a journey that will change both of their lives.





	1. Mhaighdean

**Author's Note:**

> This is my take on the relationship between Stoick and Valka. Chapters are sort of like oneshots that all flow together to create the story. Warnings for strong language, character death, violence, graphic imagery, birth scenes and sex scenes. Expect slow updates because me.

Stoick took a deep breath as he stood behind the door, his father standing beside him. "You really think I'm ready for this, Father?"

Grimbeard looked down at his son, who would reach two decades in age next fall. "Of course," he said. "Mhaighdean Erikkson is a very good match for you, my son. The union of our two clans through marriage will bring good fortune to the tribe. I know it."

Stoick took a deep breath as the doors opened. Across the hall, he could see his 15-year-old bride being led down the aisle by her father, just as Stoick was being walked by his. It was tradition that the fathers hand their children off to each other, or the mother if the father was not present.

Stoick looked at Mhaighdean as they stopped in front of each other. She looked up at him, looking about as nervous as he felt. While their fathers signed the marriage contract, Stoick gently took one of Mhaighdean's hands in his. "Scared, Maggie?" he asked softly.

She looked at their fathers before looking back at Stoick. "No," she said simply. "We both agreed to this arranged marriage, and we're both going to go through with it."

Stoick smiled softly. "I've always liked your confidence, Maggie. You'll go far in life."

<><><><><><>

Stoick paced the downstairs sitting area, biting his fingernails. Mhaighdean had been in labor for almost 24 hours, and still there was no sign of a baby coming anytime soon.

"Sit down, Stoick," Alvin said, patting the chair beside him. "Mags'll be fine. She's a tough cookie."

"Al's right, laddie," Gobber chimed in. "She'll pull through. She always does."

Stoick looked at his friends. Alvin and he had been inseparable for a long time, and Gobber had met Stoick two years ago when he accidentally flirted with the heir's wife. It was certainly an odd way to kick-start a long-lasting friendship, but it seemed to work for the two 22-year-old Vikings.

Stoick sighed and sat down, stroking his small beard thoughtfully. He'd been worried about Mhaighdean since she'd gotten pregnant. At 18 years of age, she wasn't exactly ready to be a mother. Her cycles still hadn't found a steady rhythm yet, and she was still at the very end of her pubescent years. A baby hadn't been the best thing for her, but she'd refused to take the contraceptive when Gothi offered it to her.

"I'm not killing my husband's heir before it even has a chance to grow," she'd said. Her confidence had filled Stoick with such elation that he doubted he could ever be happier with his young wife.

Now, though, Stoick feared for her life. She'd started bleeding the previous night, and the cramps had started just that morning. Since then, she'd been up in their bedroom with the midwives--Naoidhean, Glòire and Faicth--either walking around, squatting or laying in bed while she waited to deliver. In the past hours, she'd barely dilated more than six centimeters, and the baby hadn't moved an inch since that morning.

All three young men looked towards the stairs as the youngest midwife, Naoidhean, descended. She looked at Stoick, her eyes grim. "There's a problem, Stoick."

"What is it?" Stoick leapt to his feet. "Is she alright? Is the baby alright? What's happened?"

Naoidhean sighed, not meeting the heir's eyes. "Odin has taken the child," she said softly. "Mhaighdean is bleeding heavily. We believe she is experiencing a rupture of her placenta." Stoick's face paled as she continued. "That is why her labor began with blood. The child was dead from that moment."

Stoick was speechless, so Gobber spoke for him. "And...what of Mhaighdean?"

Before Naoidhean could answer, Glòire--the eldest of the midwives--came down the stairs, a bloodied towel in her arms. She glanced at Stoick before plunging the towel into a tub of cold water. "We need to deliver this baby now," she said, "or we might lose her too."

Naoidhean raced back upstairs, followed by Glòire, who gave a grim look and a small head shake to Stoick as she passed.

Stoick slowly sank back into his chair as the door to the hut opened, snow blowing in from the storm that raged outside. Chief Grimbeard stepped in then closed the door, stomping the snow off his boot as he removed his cloak. His wooden prosthetic clunked against the wood floor as he walked over to the hearth to warm up. "How are things going, son?" he asked as he passed Stoick.

The three young men all looked at each other, none wanting to tell the chief that his grandchild was dead and his daughter-in-law was close behind.

They didn't have to. Before any of them could say anything, Mhaighdean let out an ear-splitting scream from the second floor, then all was silent. Stoick raced upstairs, ignoring the protests from his father and friends. He burst through the door, only to freeze at what he saw.

Glòire was at the foot of the bed, the stillborn child in her arms. Naoidhean was cleaning up the mess from the birth, and Faicth was wiping the sweat from Mhaighdean's brow. Mhaighdean herself was ghostly pale, as if all the blood in her body had gone to her womanhood to deliver the baby.

"Maggie..." Stoick whispered as he walked toward his young wife, almost in a trance. She looked at him and smiled, despite her exhaustion and lack of strength.

"I tried, Stoick..." she said softly, almost in a whisper. "I tried..."

"Shh..." Stoick brushed her damp bangs away from her forehead as he knelt beside the bed. "Don't speak now. Save your strength."

Mhaighdean sighed, closing her eyes. Stoick watched as the midwives cleaned the child then brought it to its mother, swaddled in blankets despite its lifelessness. However, Mhaighdean was too weak to hold the child, so it was given to Stoick instead. Stoick looked at his child--daughter, he discovered--laying motionless in his arms. Her eyes were still open, a deep ocean blue like her mother's, and Stoick gently closed them. Her hair was a wispy auburn like Stoick's, while Mhaighdean's was nearly black.

"I'm sorry, my love..." Mhaighdean whispered. "Odin calls me...I must go to him..."

Stoick's head snapped to his wife. "No, Maggie, please...we still have to name her..."

Mhaighdean smiled softly, the last smile she would ever give her husband. "Frigga..."

<><><><><><>

The funeral didn't last long. The village gathered on the cliff while only close friends and family were allowed on the beach. Mhaighdean was laid on the deck of the pyre, Frigga nestled in the space between her arm and side. The stillborn child had been swaddled in a white blanket, her forehead sprinkled with ash as a blessing from the chief. Even stillborn children were considered members of the Hooligan Tribe. 

Mhaighdean herself lay on her back, her blue eyes closed and her skin pale in death. She was dressed in her best blue tunic, her furs and armor worn over it. Her hair had been braided with lilies, lilacs and white carnations, circling her head like a crown. A white tarp had been placed over her, hiding her from view, her mace resting on her chest with flowers tied to the handle.

Stoick was the first to fire an arrow, followed by Mhaighdean's family, then the rest of the village above them on the cliff. Grimbeard placed a hand on his son's shoulder, the gesture saying what words could not. Stoick simply sighed and closed his eyes, listening to the roar of the flaming pyre as it sailed away to Valhalla.


	2. The Raid

Stoick awoke to the smell of smoke and the sounds of people screaming and dragons roaring. He leapt out of bed and ran downstairs, grabbing the hammer his father had given him for his twenty-third birthday two months ago.

"What's going on?!" Stoick asked his father.

"Dragon raid," Grimbeard answered as he finished strapping on his armor. "Sounds like a lot less than what we're used to, though."

"Stoick! Chief!" someone yelled from outside. Stoick opened the door and Alvin stumbled in, his clothes singed.

"Alvin!" Stoick gripped his friend's arm. "What happened?"

"Stoick, the entire village is on fire!" Alvin looked at Grimbeard. "It's Nightmares, chief. A whole hoard of Monstrous Nightmares. Around fifteen of them, by my guess."

"Stoick," Grimbeard looked at his son, "you and Alvin gather a brigade to handle the Nightmares. I'll get some villagers together to start putting out the fires."

The young men nodded and raced outside together.

"I'll take the north side," Stoick said. "You go south towards the square and get some people to help chase off the Nightmares."

"But the north side is on fire," Alvin said. "You'll be burned alive. Besides, we should deal with protecting the village."

"If the forest burns we will have no wood," Stoick countered. "We have to take the resources into consideration. Without them, we'll all die."

"There won't be anyone to feed if we don't protect the villagers."

"WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING UP THERE?!" yelled Jaryl Hofferson. "WE NEED HELP DOWN HERE!"

Stoick and Alvin both raced to the village, where the Nightmares were wreaking all kinds of havoc. Stoick hurled an axe at one, hitting it squarely in the stomach and causing it to crash to the ground, where it was promptly stabbed to death. Alvin chucked a bola at another, chaining its wings together and sending it spiraling into the Thorston house.

"You're causing more harm than good!" Stoick yelled to Alvin. "Go put out the fires! We'll handle the dragons!"

"You need all the help you can get down here!" Alvin yelled back. "Let the women handle the fires!"

"Sexist bastard!" yelled Ingrid Jorgenson from somewhere behind them. Alvin just barely managed to duck before her mace was chucked in his direction, hitting the Nightmare behind him square in the face.

Stoick laughed, and Alvin shot him a glare.

"Fine," Alvin grumbled. "I will help with the water brigade."

"Good," Stoick said as Alvin joined the throng of men and women throwing buckets upon buckets of water on the flaming houses.

The fight dragged on for hours, starting just after dark and going on well past midnight. So far, no one had been killed, but there were some minor injuries that had taken people out of the fight and to the healer's hut.

"This is suicide!" someone yelled.

"We can't drive them off!"

"More are coming in!"

"There's no end!"

"Have strength, men!" Grimbeard's booming voice rang out above all the others. "We are Vikings! We will not surrender to a gaggle of overgrown flaming reptiles! We will fight until the bitter end or may Thor have mercy on our souls!"

"Aye!" many men yelled in response, fighting harder than Stoick had seen them fight all night. Alvin had rejoined the weapons brigade, helping attempt to drive off the dragons.

"Stoick!" Alvin suddenly exclaimed. "I've got an idea! Keep them distracted!" Before Stoick could say another word, Alvin took off running towards the docks.

"Alvin!" Stoick yelled after him, but he was blocked by a dragon that had landed to snatch a sheep. Stoick threw his hammer, hitting the dragon square in the side of the face and causing it to fly off dizzily, leaving the sheep behind.

"Stoick!" yelled Finn Hofferson, Jaryl's younger brother. "We need help over here! We're getting overwhelmed!"

Stoick ran over, taking out Nightmare after Nightmare as he made his way to the Hofferson brothers, who were paired with Spitelout Jorgenson, Sigrid Ingerman, and Gruffnut Thorston. Stoick swung his hammer around like Thor, striking down dragons as if he were the God of Thunder himself.

"Nice of you to finally drop in!" Gruffnut snarked as she thwacked a dragon upside the head with her mace. "We were worried you'd been eaten!"

"Not yet!" Stoick shot back. "Can't say the same for you though!"

Gruffnut laughed, then uttered a gurgling, high-pitched battle cry as she stabbed a sword through a Nightmare's heart.

"You're gonna deafen us, woman!" Spitelout yelled over the roar of the Nightmare in his face. He stabbed his sword down the dragon's mouth, slicing its throat from the inside.

"Help!" someone yelled. "Someone help us!"

Stoick's eyes widened as he recognized the scream that followed the cry for help. "Gobber!" The young heir raced to the smithy, hoping he wouldn't find his friend being eaten alive by a dragon.

What he did see wasn't as bad, but was pretty close.

Gobber leaned against the wall of the smithy, clutching a bloody stump in place of his left hand. A Nightmare stood in front of him, with bloodstained teeth and lips. The horrified faces of the surrounding villagers only confirmed what had happened.

Stoick was about to do something when the ground below them started to rumble. What sounded like a dragon's roar came from the sea, and every Nightmare's pupils slit as they took off into the air.

While half of the village stood around in a daze, asking each other what just happened, Stoick ran to his friend's aid. "Gobber? What happened?"

"Damn beast took my arm," Gobber said, as if he wasn't in any pain at all. "I'll get him for that, I'll get him good. An arm for a wing, don't you think?" Of course, that same Nightmare would come back less than a month later and take Gobber's right leg, but that's a story for another time.

Stoick brought Gobber to the healer's hut to get him patched up, then set about looking for Alvin. The heir tried not to let the rage he felt show on his face. If Alvin had just followed orders and done what he was supposed to, they could have gotten rid of the dragons sooner, and no one would have gotten hurt. That one night drove a rift between Stoick and Alvin that would not be repaired for 23 years.


End file.
